Tokka Week: Day 2
Prompt: Parents
So for today, I've decided to target AU Tokka as my cliché. Typically, the AU the characters get thrown into is high school, but I frankly don't find high school that interesting, so I've decided to make a scene from a Tokka Western! I love westerns, and I think Toph and Sokka would fit fantastically into one. Don't worry, the prompt plays into my ficlet here, as you'll find out later!
I haven't seen as many AU's floating around recently; usually their hidden in Tokka 100s any more, but I thought this sounded like a fun idea so I decided to go after it! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
A/N: For this fic, Toph isn't entirely blind. She has roughly 20% vision in both eyes, just enough to make out the world around her as one giant blur.
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Sokka, an Apache:
It isn't hard to worm my way past the sage brush into the barn. I tread lightly, carefully picking my way through the treacherous landscape. A bead of sweat runs down my forehead as I reach my foot out, carefully hooking my knee over the open window and lightly vaulting myself from the ground into the building. The thinning wood, ravaged by decades of the hot desert wind, threatens to creak underneath me, but I catch it firmly within my hands, silencing it. Carefully, oh so carefully, I allow my legs to relax, until I'm dangling by my fingertips about three feet from the floor below. I catch my breath in my chest as I let go and drop to the floor, the subtlest whisper of cloth the only noise that escapes into the air.
"You really couldn't be louder if you tried," she says moodily. Shocked, my foot slips on the floor, and I tumble to the ground in an ungainly heap. A frustrated groan escapes my throat.
"You know, it's not supposed to be easy to hear an Indian coming," I snap, "It'd be more polite if you'd just pretend not to notice me."
With that, I roll forward and catch my legs underneath me, gracefully darting to my feet. I slap roughly at my coat, patting the dust off as the richest girl in the territory materializes from a dark corner of the barn.
"What fun would that be?" she asks cheekily, "Besides, being polite isn't exactly my forte. Just ask my parents."
I shoot her a grin that I know she can't see and walk across the dirt floor to meet her. The old barn is filled with dust; I can see thick clouds of it floating through the air, but she doesn't seem bothered at all. Despite myself, I'm a little surprised to see her out of those frilly dresses her parents have been stuffing her in to. Somehow, it seems as though the brown pants and green shirt suit her better. Even I have to admit, the wide-brimmed Stetson that covers her pale, milky eyes in shadows is a nice touch.
Then, the awkward silence grabs hold of us, descending over the room like another layer of dust. I can almost feel its weight around my shoulders, but I can't bring myself to break it. I know why she's here. I know how impossibly hard this must be for her.
"I've decided to help you," she admits, the smile running away from her face, "I did what you said. I looked around, and you were right. Daddy is going to bring the army here."
I swallow hard and nod, wishing it wasn't true. My mind buzzes desperately, struggling in vain to find words to express my regret, but nothing comes. What do you say to someone whose just discovered that her father plans on destroying the lives of thousands of innocent people? Especially when those people are yours? My heart goes out to her, but I don't know how to express it.
"Toph, I-"
"Save it," she snaps, turning her face to the floor, "I have two conditions."
This catches me by surprise; despite myself, I feel my hand drift to the Bowie knife that sits on my left hip. I'm not worried that she'd betray me, I know that she wouldn't, but my hand tends to stray there when I get nervous. The cool steel pommel just feels reassuring in the palm of my left hand.
"What are they?" I ask suspiciously.
"First, we don't kill Daddy, and we don't kill any of the servants or staff in the train. If we have to shoot some of the Pinkertons or soldiers, I understand," she says.
"Fair enough," I reply tentatively, "But what do you mean 'we'?"
A dangerous smirk runs up the side of her face. "That's my second condition," she starts, "I'm not just going to sneak you on to the train. I'm coming with you."
I shake my head angrily at the idea. "Toph, that's insane! You're basically blind, there's no way-"
The pistol appears in Toph's hand before I can even recognize what is happening. I throw myself backwards as the black revolver swings towards me, but I'm stumbling and I trip and fall into an ancient pile of hay. I whip the sharp stalks of straw from my eyes, but all I can see is the dark octagonal barrel staring at me. The smirk is still firmly planted on Toph's face.
"I may be almost blind," she sneers, "but my hearing is pretty good. Was I too quick for you, Mr. Big Indian Warrior?"
I realize that my heart is beating a mile a minute. I force a smile to my shocked face.
"That was... pretty damn fast," I admit, "You know, you're cute when you're trying to kill me."
She ignores the jibe, and says "I'm going or it's not happening."
"Deal," I say, reaching out my hand. She holsters the pistol and takes it, hauling me to my feet with surprising strength. "Is that a Schofield?"
"You couldn't afford one," is her only answer.
"We're almost there," I whisper, "when it happens, its going to happen fast. Aang is an expert with dynamite."
She nods sagely, and as if on cue, the foundations of the world shudder beneath me. We're both thrown from our feet, tossed forwards like rag dolls across the storage cabin. Toph yelps in surprise; I reach out and grab her, hugging her close as the sudden braking of the train slams us into the hard, steel walls. I wince with the pain as stars shoot across my vision, hoping against hope that nothing is broken. Toph squirms from my arms as we slide to the floor, groaning with pain.
"Keep your hands off me!" she snaps pushing herself back to her feet. I roll my eyes.
"Oh yes, thank you, kind Sokka, for saving my life!" I shoot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
She snorts in reply. "Don't pretend you didn't enjoy holding me."
"Trust me, the pleasure was all yours," I retort, and then its time to get serious. I grab hold of the bulkhead and pull myself back up, feeling the wooden handle of the peacemaker in my right hand. The leather holster whispers as I draw the weapon, grateful for its reassuring weight. My left hand snakes over towards my Bowie knife, thankful to find it still there. I glance over at Toph; the smirk has evaporated off of her face, and her Schofield sits ready in her hand.
"Joking aside," I start, "You're absolutely sure you can use that thing?"
She scowls at me in reply. "I've been practicing with guns since I was seven. Just one more thing my Daddy doesn't know about me."
My eyes narrow, and I nod sagely. "Let's go teach him a thing or two."
Our plan is really, really solid. I should know, I came up with it myself. Only one train car sits between us and Lao Bei Fong. If we can get through the few Pinkerton detectives that Lao ferries around with him, we can arrest him and bring him to justice. The local judge, Iroh, is a good man with integrity. Lao won't get off scott free.
I shoot a look at Toph; she nods, and I throw the door open, into chaos. Smoke quickly fills the cabin as pistols crack and boom. I feel shrapnel graze my face as I dive for cover behind a crate, thumbing back the hammer on my revolver and bracing myself for battle. I glance over the top of the heavy wooden box, clapping my eyes on a big man in a bowler cap. His eyes twinkle with rage as he whips his pistol around at me, but I am faster. I fan the hammer and squeeze the trigger, feeling the pistol buck in my hand as I pour three rounds into him. He screws his eyes shut as the lead rounds punch through his chest, and despite myself, I feel pangs of guilt run through me.
Then, I hazard a glance back towards Toph and its like watching a warrior goddess. Her teeth are clenched together in otherworldly fury as she points her revolver and shoots. The smoke from the booming pistol flutters amidst her hair and I feel a shock of fear at this sight that is so beautiful and so terrifying. Then, my senses take over, and I try to scream over the din.
"Toph, we have to move forward, before they try to get Lao out! Push!"
She answers with a nod, and I put my head back in to the scene at hand. Another Pinkerton with a dramatic moustache whips from behind cover, cradling a shotgun between his hands. Instinct more than skill takes over as I squeeze the trigger, sending a shot wide to his left. I barely manage to fall out of the way as the plume of flame explodes from both barrels, crashing through the crates and sending chunks of wood and buckshot spinning through the crowded hall. I thumb back the hammer and cool off, taking my time and allowing the front sight to drift into my vision. His chest appears, and I squeeze the trigger again; this time I'm rewarded by a grunt and the heavy, rumbling sound of his body collapsing.
"Go!" Toph shouts, "Get Daddy! I'll hold them off!"
I can feel the skin between my eyes crinkle as I shake my head. I won't leave her here to try and fend off Lao's fleet of Pinkertons! But then, my eyes catch hold of her, and of the men diving for cover all around her. The cracks of the pistols are deafening, but her ferocity is so terrifying, so perfect in its intensity, and I realize that I don't know of any man alive that could get the better of her. Not like this.
"Go!" she screams again, and God help me, I obey.
It's easy to find Lao's office; suddenly the paneling of the cabin shifts from dull bare steel to an expensive dark walnut, blossoming into a beautiful door inlaid with tasteful gold paint. I take a deep breath, thumbing open the latch of my pistol and checking for rounds. Empty. A curse escapes my lips and I toss the worthless pistol to the ground.
It's difficult, but I manage to control my wildly firing nerves and plant a boot into the hinges of the door with all my strength, punching a thick, jagged crack into the wood. With a shout of frustration I kick at the door again, this time knocking the bolts from the wall and sending the expensive door crashing to the ground.
Lao's pale face comes into view, even paler with shock and terror. His eyes widen to the size of saucers as he whips around and runs to his desk; I know before he even moves that he is going for a gun. I let go with a throaty war cry and lunge for him, fury coursing through my veins. The man pointedly looks away from me, as he rounds his desk, scrabbling in the drawers and producing a revolver. I plant a foot on the top of the ornate table and vault over it, whipping the Bowie knife out of its sheath and swinging it with all my might. Lao's revolver comes up until the blade of the knife bites into the steel, shunting the gun to the side. He twists away at the impact, trying to bring the gun up to bear again, but my free fist crashes into his face; Lao rocks backwards, blood streaming from his nose and collapses to the ground. His frantic eyes dart towards his dropped pistol, but my boot slams into it, sending it skittering across the floor. Lao's pale gaze clasps upon mine.
"Mr. Bei Fong," I seethe through clenched teeth, "I am Sokka of the Chiricahua Apaches, a duly appointed Deputy in the Arizona territories, and I am placing you under arrest. I don't want to kill you, but if you give me a reason, I'll put you down like a dog."
Lao's expression calms somewhat as he realizes that I don't plan on killing him. He visibly relaxes, hauling himself up into a sitting position and glaring at me with his venomous green irises. His voice is thin and reedy as he speaks.
"You've got no idea who you're messing with," he spits, "If you think I'll spend a day in jail, hauled in by a damned Indian like you, you're insane."
"You planned on starting another Indian war so you could grab a hold of our land!" I all but scream at him, "You were going to drag the army here, kill us all off, and for what? A hundred thousand acres? A million acres? And you think Judge Iroh won't see you hang? You're the one whose insane!"
"I am just a railway entrepreneur-"
"You only built the railway so you could ferry your soldiers into Chiricahua lands! Save your lies, Lao, it's all over for you," I hiss, pointing my thick knife at him, "We know everything. We've got proof. We've got witnesses. You've got no chance."
A sudden smirk crosses his face. "I wouldn't go that far," he mutters, and a derringer suddenly slips from his jacket into his hand. I'm fast, but he's faster, and the only thing I manage to do is twist to my right, barely saving my life. The tiny bullet misses my head, but my right shoulder explodes in pain as the round tumbles through it. My Bowie knife drops from my nerveless hands as needles of hot fire shoot through my arm. I scream, and realize that Lao has somehow regained his feet just as his fist pulps my nose. I overbalance and fall backwards, crashing painfully into the desk as Lao steps between me and the door. Hot wetness runs down my chest, and Lao grins again before pulling back the hammer of his derringer. Small or not, I know I'm dead if he pulls that trigger. A deep coldness settles in my stomach, as I realize that I am probably about to die.
"Typical, stupid Indian," he sneers, "When will your people learn that we are always one step ahead of you? I tell you what, I'll give you a deal."
I narrow my eyes, trying my best to look defiant, but I'm not sure if it works. God help me, I am truly afraid. I am not ready to die!
"If you tell me what proof the court has, and who your witnesses are, I'll let you live. You'll spend the rest of your life in an Indian jail back East, but you'll get to stay alive."
His incredible arrogance starts to replace the fear with rage. I will never give my people up like that! I'd rather die! I casually slide my good left hand further behind me, preparing myself for one more last-ditch attack. If I'm going to die, I'm going to die on my feet, like an Apache warrior should.
"No more comments about how evil or insane I am?" Lao demands, "You were so full of words earlier. Don't tell me you've got nothing left to say!" Suddenly, I see a flash of movement in the empty door frame. A smirk runs up to my face.
"Sure," I reply, "I see now where her speed comes from."
The unmistakeable clicking sound of a pistol being cocked fills the room. Lao's eyes widen in surprise as he turns his head, carefully keeping his tiny pistol trained on me.
A dirty, battered Toph stands in the doorway, her Schofield in her hands, a dark expression on her face.
"Toph?" Lao roars in surprise, "What are you doing here? How dare you point a gun at me! What do you think you're-"
Toph begins to physically quake with emotion. "Shut up, Daddy!" she screams, "Stop it! I'm not your doll, you don't own me and I won't let you do this!"
Lao recoils as if punched, physically taken aback by Toph's outburst, though he keeps that gun pointed at me.
"Toph..." he all but whispers, and I am shocked to hear so much emotion in his voice as well. "I know I don't own you! I've only ever wanted to protect you! Can't you see that?"
Toph doesn't say anything, but her hands begin to tremble, the knuckles turning white.
"All of this," Lao insists, waving his free hand around the train car, "This whole plot, it's all for you! Toph I won't be around forever, and I wanted to make sure you were always taken care of! I want to leave you this ranch land, so you will never have to suffer, or have someone manage your affairs for you! It's all for you, Toph, it always has been! I love you!"
I look on in horror as Toph, despite her incredible toughness, begins to weep. The tears now run freely down her face, audibly plopping as they hit the floor of the silent cabin.
"Toph, its alright, you don't have to cry!" Lao says gently, still pointing that damned derringer at me, "Once I get rid of him, you can come back home! If you want more freedom, you can have it! More than anything I just want you to be happy. You have to believe that!"
Through her quaking emotion, she nods, and I know in that moment that I am going to die. "I know, Daddy," she whispers.
Lao turns back towards me, and I see the face of death hidden in his viperish green irises. I screw my eyes shut, my mind screaming as I try to remain brave and solid, as befits an Apache warrior in death. The crack of the pistol is deafeningly loud, reverberating through my ear drums like a scream through the canyons.
Suddenly, I realize that I haven't been shot. My eyes shoot open. Lao's has shock and betrayal written across his face. He coughs, and blood spurts from between his lips, dribbling thickly down the front of his impeccable white shirt. His expression never changes, even as Lao falls to his knees, then collapses to the floor.
Somehow, I manage to pull my gaze away from the dead man's face to look up at Toph. A plume of smoke wafts delicately from the barrel of her pistol, which now hangs loosely at her side. She drops it, not caring as the expensive revolver clatters loudly against the floor, then bursts into sobs. She cries openly, her shoulders quaking with a pain so raw and deep I know I could never hope to fathom it, could never begin to understand. The throbbing ache of my shoulder seems somehow dull and far away as I push myself to my feet off of my good left hand.
I grab hold of her tightly, feeling her wet tears soak through my shirt as she presses her face into my chest.
"I couldn't... I didn't," she sobs, "He was going to kill you... I didn't know what else to.."
"Shhh," I whisper, burying my face in her smokey hair, "I know, Toph, I know."
My people often tell the story of the treacherous Lao Bei Fong, and how he planned to murder the Chiricahuas to take our land for himself. They don't often describe what it really cost to stop him, or how one unbelievably heroic girl gave up quite literally everything for us. Somehow, I don't think language, not ours or yours, quite has the words to convey it.
A/N: Well, there it is! My submission for Day 2 of Tokka Week! I know, it's unlikely that many of you are Western fans like I am, but this was an idea I'd had floating around my head for a long, long time, and it was unbelievable fun to write. What did you think of the ending? Was it too sad? I worried about that, but the best Westerns always end with some bitterness, and you had to know that showdown at the end was coming. Regardless, I'm dying to hear your opinions so don't be afraid to click that review button!